


The Interplay of Fantasy and Dreams

by TheseusInTheMaze



Series: The Interplay [2]
Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series)
Genre: Anal Sex, Anxiety, Cutting, Dream Sharing, Fingering, Kissing, M/M, Mental intimacy, Minor Somnophilia, Podfic Welcome, Telepath AU, Telepathy, violent imagery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-23
Updated: 2019-01-23
Packaged: 2019-10-15 06:16:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17523449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheseusInTheMaze/pseuds/TheseusInTheMaze
Summary: "So I watched that episode you did recently. The telepath “things that telephasiacs don’t get” video.”“Mm? What about it?”“... Why were you and Andrew laughing about big beds?”





	The Interplay of Fantasy and Dreams

**Author's Note:**

> A million billion thank yous to my beta, Cinco. <3

“Hey Shane?” Ryan’s voice was casual, but there were anxious harmonics on the edges of it.

“Mmm?” Shane was comfortably lazy, sprawled out on the couch with his feet on the coffee table. Ryan’s legs were on top of his own, and there wasn't any skin to skin contact but it was tantalizingly close - just enough that Shane could, in theory, wrap his hand around Ryan’s bare ankle for a jolt of Ryan’s internal monologue. 

“Can I ask a weird question?” More anxiety jangling through Ryan, dancing across Shane’s skin like ants. The joys of telepathy - he didn’t know what was going on, but he could tell how Ryan felt about it. 

“You just did,” Shane said, and he rested his hand (his _bare_ hand!) on Ryan’s knee, squeezing through the denim. It still felt practically indecent, going around without any gloves on during private time with Ryan. it was like walking around naked, only moreso. 

“What?” A little jolt of confusion went through Ryan’s mind - a discordant note, mixing in with all of the other anxiety like someone hitting the wrong key while playing the piano. 

“Most people don’t ask if they can ask a weird question,” said Shane. “They just ask the question.” His fingertip traced Ryan’s kneecap, and Ryan’s ankle flexed against his side. 

“I don’t do anything normally,” Ryan said, although his anxiety was dissipating. Thank fuck. Ryan’s anxiety could make Shane feel like he was drowning sometimes. “But yeah. Question.”

“Question,” Shane echoed.

“So I watched that episode you did recently. The telepath “things that telephasiacs don’t get” video.” 

“Mm? What about it?” Shane stretched, his shoulders clicking like castanets. 

“... Why were you and Andrew laughing about big beds?” Ryan looked genuinely nervous, which was a surprise. 

Shane covered Ryan’s knee with his hand, squeezing it. “Oh, that? That’s just just, uh… it’s because if I’m sleeping next to someone and I touch them, about half the time it turns into dream sharing. Which can result in things getting… awkward.” 

“Oh,” said Ryan. “You never mentioned that, all those episodes where we slept in the same bed.” . 

“I always layer up for those,” said Shane. “Don’t want to end up accidentally galloping through your subconscious at weird hours when we’re on camera, after all.” It was more complicated than that, when you got down to it - when they’d slept together for Unsolved, they hadn’t been any flavor of intimate. As close as they were now - going on dates, fucking, sharing the mirror in the morning at least once a week - it was a lot less intrusive. But you didn’t want to wander into someone’s unchecked mind if you weren’t willing to kiss them. 

Plus, dreams were just _weird_. Shane had floated into people’s minds before, but it wasn’t a thing he made a habit of. It always ended up going strange places. 

“Oh,” said Ryan. “But not at home?”

“I get too hot,” said Shane. “I like to let it all hang out when I’m trying to get some sleep, y’know?”

“Right,” said Ryan. “And the big bed is because….”

“Well, I mean, first off, I’m freakishly long,” Shane said, jiggling his legs just enough to make a point.

Ryan snorted, but amusement was coming off of him in waves. “I knew that already,” said Ryan. “I’ve got eyes.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Shane said, making a dismissive hand gesture, almost touching Ryan’s bare ankle - the warmth of Ryan’s skin raised little goosebumps all up and down Shane’s arms. “But also a big bed means I don’t have to worry about layering, because I can just… stretch out.”

“So that’s why your room is like eighty percent bed,” said Ryan. “That makes sense. Although I thought that was a shaved Sasquatch thing, not a telepath thing.”

Shane shrugged. “It can’t be both?”

“Fair enough,” said Ryan, and he paused, looking guilty. “Is that why you keep turning down offers to stay over at my place?” 

… Crap. Well, if they were going to do the romance thing he might as well be honest, right? “That’s part of it, yeah,” Shane admitted.

“Oh,” said Ryan. “You could’ve said, big guy.” He was feeling… something, although Shane wasn’t sure what it was. He couldn’t entirely pick it up. 

Shane shrugged. “It’s not that big a deal.”

“Still.” Ryan frowned, his eyebrows knitting together. Shane wanted to reach out and press his thumb against one. 

… He could, in _theory_ , do it. Right there and then. It was an actual option. Fuck, how’d he get so lucky?

“Still?” Shane raised an eyebrow. 

“I want… I want my apartment to be comfortable for you,” Ryan said slowly. He looked anxious, or maybe nervous.

“I appreciate it,” said Shane, and squeezed Ryan’s knee again just because he could. Being able to touch someone without anxiety was the kind of luxury he’d never realized he’d been missing until he had it all the time. 

“Do you want me to, uh… get a bigger bed?” Ryan bit his lip, and he was emitting embarrassment like radio waves. 

Shane flushed as well - was it residual embarrassment from Ryan, or was he embarrassed himself? Fucked if he knew! For all that he could read other people’s feelings pretty well, his own were sometimes a mystery to him. “You, uh… you don’t have to do that,” he told Ryan. “It’s a big step.”

“Is that one of those big relationship milestones you get with telepaths? You take off the gloves, you get a big bed….” Ryan was squirming, although he hadn’t taken his legs out of Shane’s lap. 

“Next thing you know, we’re picking out rings together,” Shane agreed. 

“I’m not ready for that,” Ryan said quickly. 

“I know,” said Shane, and he patted Ryan on the bare ankle, just a second, for that little flash of Ryan’s mind like a lightning strike. 

_shit shit shit marriage who’s ready for marriage I’m not even thirty yet_

Shane bit back a grin and squeezed Ryan’s knee. “Don’t worry about it,” he said. “It’s okay. I promise.”

“What does… like, what happens, if you touch someone when you’re sleeping?” Ryan was interested - still embarrassed, but interested. “You mentioned something, but I think I kinda spaced out as you said it.” He looked sheepish.

“You can end up dream sharing, like I said,” said Shane. “Which can get… well.”

“Well?” Ryan raised an eyebrow. 

Shane frowned, trying to put it into words. How to describe being in someone else’s dreams? “You know how weird and confusing dreams are, when you’re the one experiencing it and you know what’s happening?”

“Mm?”

“Now imagine being dropped into someone _else’s_ dream. With all their weird personal symbolism and whatnot. Plus you have no control over… well, anything.” 

“Do you usually have control over other people’s thoughts?” Ryan wore an intrigued expression.

“I mean, no,” said Shane, “but when all parties are awake you can change the subject, or at least control _yourself_. If I’m asleep, I’m just along for the ride. Metaphorically.” 

“Right,” said Ryan. “Have you ever done that?” 

“A couple of times,” said Shane. “Not for a while, though.” 

“Do you… does it bother you?” Ryan was looking faintly uncomfortable now. “To be in someone’s dream.”

“I mean,” Shane said, “I… I trust you.” He even meant it, which was a bit of a surprise. 

It wasn’t that he didn’t trust easily, per se. It was just that… well, to be a telepath was to have easy access to all of the darkest corners of a person’s mind. It took effort to give all (or even most) of yourself in a situation like that.

“Thank you,” Ryan said, and he smiled at Shane sweetly enough that a little bit of Shane’s heart broke, right there on the couch. 

“Also, it can’t be good for your budget to keep Lyfting from my place,” Ryan said. 

“I can sleep on the couch,” Shane said quickly. “Don’t worry about it.”

“I worry about it,” Ryan said. “Can I at least give you the bed sometimes?” 

“Don’t worry about it,” Shane repeated firmly. “It’s not like we have to worry about it tonight. We’re at my place, remember?”

“Well, yes,” said Ryan, “but I’d… I’d like you to stay over at my place sometime. If that wouldn’t be too much. Um.” Embarrassment was misting off of him like steam off of a kettle. 

“Um?” Shane raised an eyebrow and tried not to show his own emotions. What even _were_ his own emotions, at this moment in time? 

“Just… it’s late,” Ryan said, and he was looking even more embarrassed. “Would it be okay if I stayed over?”

“You’re always welcome here,” Shane said, squeezing Ryan’s knee again. “I mean, not always-always, because sometimes I want to sit around my apartment naked, but as long as you text me first, we should be good.”

Ryan snorted. “You know, I can’t imagine you naked.”

“You’ve never imagined me naked?” Shane put on his best skeptical expression.

Ryan rolled his eyes. “Well, okay, I’ve imagined you naked in, like… _that_ kind of situation, but just sitting around… not so much.” He was still embarrassed, his cheeks pink.

“And what do you mean by _that_ kind of situation, exactly?” Shane was being an ass just to be an ass, but Ryan was still blushing.

“Like… y’know, a sexy one.” Ryan leaned into the back of the couch, his hands behind his head. “C’mon, you’ve been in my head. We’ve had sex. You know my fantasies by now.” 

“I do know your fantasies now,” Shane agreed. “Some of them, at least.” 

“Not all of them,” said Ryan quickly. “And I don’t know any of _yours_ ,” he added.

“I mean,” Shane said, clearing his throat, and now it felt like _he_ was radiating embarrassment. “I’m, uh… I’m not the best at… y’know, sharing my own fantasies. I’m used to seeing other people’s.”

“Right,” said Ryan, and he cleared his throat too as more embarrassment sheeted off of him. “Well, I’m always open to hear yours. If you want to share ‘em.” He laughed, anxiety mixing in like smoke in mist. “Relationships - if it’s not too weird to, uh, to say that we’re in a relationship. Or am I -”

“Ryan,” said Shane, “you’re sitting on my couch, at god _knows_ what time it is -”

“You just looked at the time on your goddamn phone,” Ryan groused, “how did you miss the time?!”

“I’m old,” Shane said, “and it’s late -”

“How would you know, if you don’t remember what time it is,” Ryan interrupted.

“It’s _late_ ,” Shane repeated. “You don’t need to know what time it is to know that it’s late. Late is a state of mind - nay, a state of _being_!”

“You are so full of shit,” said Ryan conversationally. Affection wafted from him like a nice perfume. 

“And you’re still sitting with me on this couch,” Shane pointed out. 

“Well,” Ryan said, “what can I say. I’ve got bad taste.” 

“Thanks for that, Ry,” said Shane, making a face. “Real validating there.”

“Any time,” said Ryan, then; “what were we talking about?”

Shane rolled his eyes. “We’re in a relationship,” he told Ryan, and Ryan froze like he’d stepped in a puddle, his emotions too complex for Shane to decode completely. There was glee, and anxiety. “All people who are around other people are in some kind of relationship.”

Ryan deflated a bit, disappointment mixing in the rest of the miasma boiling off of him. 

Shane sighed, and put his hand on the back of Ryan’s head, nearly getting knocked back by the firehose of Ryan’s emotions. 

_he hates me he hates me he hates me how can I be such a fuck up oh my god I’m such a dumbass_

“I’m not mad at you,” said Shane, his fingers combing through Ryan’s hair. The feelings were still washing over him and it was like a really high-intensity shower, only with emotions. Which was a horrible analogy, now that he thought about it, but still. “I just think that we’re both too tired to have an earnest discussion about what kind of relationship we think we’re in.” 

Ryan looked at Shane sidelong, his eyelashes casting interesting shadows across his cheeks. “Are you sure?” He licked his lips, but he leaned into Shane’s hand,and his pleasure at being touched bled through - he clearly loved the warmth of contact. 

“Yeah,” said Shane, leaning in to kiss Ryan on the mouth because he could. It was an intense moment - more feelings crashed down on Shane’s head. Totally worth it, though, for the contentment sliding through Ryan to lap at Shane’s skin. 

“Okay,” Ryan said quietly. Then he sighed, his forehead against Shane’s. “I’m sorry for all of the… drama.”

“You’re overthinking things,” Shane said firmly, pulling back before he drowned in Ryan’s feelings. “C’mon. Let’s go to bed.”

“Do you want me to sleep on the couch?” Ryan was uncertain now - Shane could almost taste it on the back of his own tongue.

Shane frowned. “Why would I want you to do that?” 

“We just had a _whole_ conversation about how being in other people’s dreams is complicated for you. Or did I imagine all of that?” Ryan waggled his eyebrows.

Shane rolled his eyes, “I have a giant bed,” he reminded Ryan. “That was how we started this conversation.”

“We’ve digressed since then,” Ryan pointed out, yawning and rubbing his eyes. “Although I think you’re right about going to bed.”

“We haven’t had many digressions,” Shane said, more to be contrary than because he was invested in arguing. He didn’t even try to hide the way he looked at Ryan, as Ryan walked off to the kitchen to dump the plates in the sink. “You good for staying over?”

“Yeah, I’m good,” said Ryan over his shoulder, blushing when he met Shane’s eyes. “You really like to look at me, don’t you?” Unusually brazen for Ryan, but then again, Ryan always got more brazen when he was tired or drunk or in any other kind of altered state. 

“You’re pretty… lookable,” said Shane, and then he trailed off, making a face. “That was a bad sentence, I’d like to apologize for that.”

Ryan snorted inelegantly and grinned at Shane. “You’re cute,” he told Shane, and his affection was like a cup of hot coffee on a cold morning

“I do my best,” Shane demurred, although he was grinning back. God, but this was getting sappy. 

“Well… you’re doing pretty good,” said Ryan, as he headed to the bathroom, and Shane couldn’t really think of a good response.

So he didn’t. He turned off various lights, checked the locks, and washed the dishes in the sink. He could hear the sounds of Ryan doing various pre-bed things: bathroom faucet going, the toilet flushing, the quiet sounds of getting undressed. By the time Shane came back to the bedroom Ryan was tucked into the blankets, his phone plugged in and resting on the nightstand, his hands behind his head. 

“Hi,” said Ryan when he caught sight of Shane. 

“Hi,” said Shane, leaning down to kiss Ryan on the forehead. He nearly staggered - Ryan was tired in that way that only comes from resting in a comfortable bed with a full stomach. The usual static of Ryan’s thoughts was quiet, and he grinned at Shane with a sleepy expression.

“Come to bed, big guy,” he said, and there was so much tenderness in his voice that Shane kind of wanted to curl up and die.

“Let me do some stuff,” Shane said. “Then I’m all yours.”

“I thought you were already mine,” Ryan said, and he yawned wide enough that Shane could have counted his back teeth. 

Shane snorted, but he made his way to the bathroom. 

* * *

By the time Shane had washed his face, brushed his teeth, pissed, and done all the various other bedtime things, Ryan was two-thirds asleep. He made a soft noise and reached out for Shane over the vastness of the bed, his hand brushing over the shoulder of Shane’s shirt. 

Shane took Ryan’s hand and gave it a quick squeeze, letting go before he could get drawn into Ryan’s mind. “Night, Ryan,” he said quietly. 

“Night,” Ryan said. 

Shane turned off the bedside light and snuggled down into the covers. 

… And then he paused and sat up, eyeing Ryan in the dimness. The bedroom was warm, and his bed was warmer with another body in it. Even in a bed this big, he was beginning to feel overheated. Maybe if he took his shirt off…. It wasn’t that he was against sleeping shirtless - or even sleeping naked. But sleeping like that in a bed with another person… was that really such a bad idea? 

… Fuck it. It was Ryan. 

So Shane shucked off his shirt and bedded down into his sheets, the cotton cool against his bare skin. He let his eyes slide shut, sinking down into the deep well of sleep.

* * *

Shane didn’t know when he realized that he was in Ryan’s dream. He wasn’t even sure when he realized he was in a dream, exactly. He knew it wasn’t _his_ dream, once he realized it was _a_ dream. It was like waking up in a home that wasn’t yours - your home smells like your home, and places that aren’t your home smell different. 

The insides of your dreams feel like your own. Being a visitor in someone else’s brain felt… foreign. Different. 

Of course, because it was a dream everything was a bit odd. Things didn’t move in a linear way, exactly - a lot of it had the flickering feel of a photograph. It felt like trying to recall a memory from a long time ago, except it was happening at the same time. There would be a moment, stuck in time, and there would be another moment later in time, with nothing in between them. 

So Shane was wandering some great old haunt, and he was talking with Ryan about it. What were they talking about? Fuck if Shane remembered. In the middle of it Ryan shot him a confused look, and Shane shot him one back. 

"You know," Ryan said, "you're not usually like this. When we're here."

Shane had no idea what nebulous "here" they were inhabiting, but he shrugged. "People are different at different points," said Shane, because that seemed to be the right thing to say. 

That was the thing about being in someone else's dream - all parties are asleep and operating on dream logic. Oh, sure, you _think_ you'll say something suave and it'll be coherent, but dreams aren't like that. 

Or at least, Shane's dreams weren't like that. 

"That's fair," said Ryan, grinning at Shane with a quick flash of his white, white teeth. They glowed amongst the darkness of the hallway they were walking through. 

And then there was another snapshot, of Ryan was standing next to Shane, and Ryan _also_ strapped to a table in a dank dark basement like something out of a third-rate horror movie. There was a figure in a plague doctor's outfit standing over him, holding a scalpel. The Ryan on the table wasn't wearing any clothing and his cock was hard, pressing against his belly. 

"Do you always watch yourself in these kinds of situations?" Shane crossed his arms against his chest, and he rocked on the balls of his feet. Everything had a half-completed look, like he was on the set of a play. He had a feeling that if he went to examine the various bubbling beakers they'd be full of colored water. 

"Only when it's getting good," said the Ryan standing next to Shane, and Shane looked over to see that he had a hand down his pajama pants, stroking his cock awkwardly. The Ryan on the table was screaming as the plague doctor began to cut him open with a scalpel, the flesh parting like butter on a hot knife. The blood spilling out was redder than red, and rained down Ryan's sides. There were other details but it honestly made Shane kind of queasy. He didn't begrudge Ryan his gore... thing, but it wasn't for Shane. 

"That's surprisingly metatextual," said Shane, and then something nudged against his hip, shaking him, and he... blinked awake. 

* * * 

The darkness wasn't entirely dark - the light from the street seeped in and reflected off of the base of as lamp, off of the knobs of his dresser. Ryan's breath was hot on Shane's shoulder, his hands sweaty on Shane's sides. 

They were touching, skin to skin, and Shane was still half asleep - enough that Ryan's thoughts seemed to mix in with his own. 

_please I want it I need it I want I want please let me in love me hold me let me in please please_

Shane blinked at Ryan, his head stuffed full of cotton, and then Ryan kissed him, grinding into his hip. Shane's hands came around to curve over the back of Ryan's skull and bury his fingertips in Ryan's hair, and Ryan moaned again, harder this time, his hips working desperately. Ryan's feelings were all mixed up - shame and want, arousal threading through it all like gold through quartz. 

Ryan kissed Shane, and Shane parted his lips to let Ryan's tongue into his mouth. He was reminded of the way Ryan-on-the-table's skin had parted under the scalpel, and maybe Ryan felt a bit of the memory. Ryan moaned, pressing closer, and there was _so much_ contact as the two of them slid together. Ryan was practically on top of Shane now, his hands in Shane's hair, his mouth hot and wet against Shane's. 

"I want to... please, Shane, can I... can I fuck you? Please?" Ryan panted, his hands shaking as they ran over Shane's sweaty chest. His cock was hard against Shane's thigh and he was full-on humping against him. 

_I want I want I want please please please hot wet tight please I want_

"Yeah," Shane said, his voice rough with sleep. "Yeah, fuck, do it, fuck me."

Ryan moaned and surged forward, still grinding, his cock hard in his boxers and soaking through the fabric of them, soaking through Shane's sweatpants. Ryan's emotions were foggy and muddled, his teeth blunt on Shane's shoulder. He moaned again, harder, when Shane grabbed his ass to pull him closer until they were pressed tightly together. 

"You need to get the lube," Shane said against Ryan's temple. His whole body was on edge - Ryan's arousal was sinking into his skin like oxygen, and Ryan's desperation was infecting him. His skin was too tight, too slick with sweat. His heartbeat hummed in his ears like an engine, and every connection of his mind with Ryan’s was like a shot of static electricity. 

“Right,” Ryan said, his chest vibrating against Shane’s. His voice buzzed across Shane’s skin, almost ticklish. “Remind me where that is?”

“Give me a second,” Shane said, and he leaned over, groping to open his bedside drawer. Ryan was draped over him like a blanket, heavy and full of churning feelings. His fingers closed around the cold bottle of the lube and he pulled it closer, then handed it to Ryan. 

Ryan sat up, rubbing his eyes, and he looked at Shane with a thoughtful expression. “Were you in my dream?” His tone was casual, even as he grabbed the waistband of Shane’s sweatpants and pulled them down and off of Shane’s legs. His hands were warm and solid on Shane’s bare skin, and his thoughts beat through Shane like a pulse.

_god he’s so hot how is he so hot he’s in bed with me and he’s letting me in fuck I want to fuck him I want him to cut me open I want I want I want I want_

Shane blushed as Ryan looked him up and down. It was almost unsettling, to have someone looking at him that tenderly. He wasn’t sure what to make of it. Shane wasn’t someone who was looked at - he was someone who looked. It was the old stereotype about telepaths; they were the eternal observers, not the observed. And yet here was Ryan, looking him up and down, his eyes lingering on the flushed, wet tip of Shane’s cock and Shane’s flushed face, the flutter of Shane’s hands on the bedcovers. “Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” Shane said, self conscious in spite of himself. 

“I’d have to turn the light on to do that,” Ryan pointed out. There was a quiet click, and then the dim light caught the shine of lube as Ryan poured it onto his fingers. “Were you in my dream?”

“I think so,” said Shane, covering his eyes to block out the minimal light and Ryan’s face. Not that he didn’t like Ryan’s face, but everything was all a bit… much right now. With his eyes closed he could still see Ryan tied to the table, his skin splitting. Only now Ryan’s finger was sliding into him, the same way the scalpel had slid across Ryan’s skin, and the comparison was enough to make him a little queasy but a little aroused, too. 

“Sorry about that,” said Ryan, sounding sheepish. He was embarrassed but it was mostly blotted out by arousal, like a storm cloud laced with lightning. His finger was solid and hot inside Shane and Shane sighed, willing himself to relax. 

He wasn’t the best at relaxing. He wasn’t the best at letting someone else in. 

Ryan’s thoughts were losing coherency, turning into sensations and ideas more than words themselves. A few of them crept through as Ryan’s finger went all the way down to the knuckle, his palm against Shane’s perineum and his other hand splayed out on Shane’s inner thigh.

_hot tight holding on like velvet so perfect for my cock let me in slit my throat and take my cock please please please eat me whole_

As ever, Ryan’s mix of obscenity and requests for violence perplexed Shane, but Ryan’s fingertip was right up against his prostate and Shane made a very stupid noise, his hips rolling forward. “Why are… why are _you_ s-s-sorry?” Shane’s cock flexed against his belly, leaking more pre-come into the thin hair around his navel. The pleasure was like a snow drift - little bits of it piling onto themselves, getting bigger and bigger. The avalanche would suffocate him, if he wasn’t careful. 

“I know that some of the stuff I’m into is kinda… disturbing,” Ryan said as his finger thrust into Shane, his knuckles curling and uncurling. “You’re the first one who really knows about it in the first place.” He withdrew his finger, added more lube, and added another finger. 

“God, your hands feel so much bigger like this,” Shane mumbled, bearing down on Ryan’s fingers, his hips wriggling. There was his arousal, and Ryan’s arousal, and there was Ryan’s arousal at his arousal, and his arousal at Ryan’s arousal, and it all seemed like an endless ouroboros eating its own tail. 

“You don’t say,” Ryan said, his tone dry. His hand was no longer on Shane’s thigh and Shane uncovered his face to look down the line of his body. He groaned when he saw Ryan stroking his own cock, clenching around Ryan’s fingers and making Ryan groan as well. 

“You look ready to pop, like a bottle of warm champagne,” said Shane, and he was rewarded with another surge of Ryan’s arousal, crashing over his head like a tidal wave, or maybe a cartoon anvil. 

“It was a good dream,” Ryan said thickly. “You were there.” He spread his fingers inside Shane and Shane groaned like he was in pain, his back arching. Ryan was concentrating so hard on the feeling of his cock in his hand and of Shane’s ass around his fingers that Shane could feel them as well - the slick heaviness, the velvety tightness. It was all becoming very overwhelming, and he was reminded why he didn’t have naked, penetrative sex that often.

Some of it was all metaphorical, admittedly - Shane spent enough time observing the insides of other people's heads. Going into their bodies (or letting them into his) was… a lot. 

"So... mmm, fuck, your hands... so it was a good dream because I was there?" Shane's hips rolled up again, humping into Ryan's fingers, his heels digging into the bed as he tried to get some kind of leverage. There was already so much _touching_ , and Shane was getting drunk on it. Ryan was warm and solid and his mind already becoming faintly familiar, almost comfortingly so. 

"Don't get too full of yourself," said Ryan, twisting his fingers and making Shane swear up at the ceiling, his mind going blank. He was so lost in sensation that he couldn't even comprehend Ryan's thoughts - he was still _aware_ of them, but they were just playing in the background. Was this the telepath version of Netflix and chill?

That startled a snicker out of Shane, which made Ryan give him a surprised look.

_did I do something wrong god he's so tight I want my cock in there now fuck_

"Sorry," Shane said, gasping as Ryan's fingers twisted in him again. "It's... fuck. I was surprised you don't... you don't want _me_ to slice 'n dice you."

Ryan froze and Shane groaned, grinding back against Ryan's fingers, fucking himself on them. "It, uh... it wasn't what it looked like?" Ryan tried, although anxiety was suddenly leaking out of him like water out of a balloon. 

"I'm not offended," Shane said, trying to catch hold of something like coherency. "It's not like I'm _expecting_ to be the star of all of your... all of your fantasies." He gasped as Ryan did something else with his fingers, and then they were being pulled out again and Shane was lying there panting, achingly empty. 

"I, uh... I know you're not so into the gore stuff," Ryan said, and there was a wet sound. "Sometimes you're in my dreams like that, but you know, dreams aren't that coherent." Ryan shifted as he tried to get more comfortable on the bed, his dry hand sliding up along Shane's thigh. "Do you think you're ready for my dick, or do you want another finger?"

_god he looks so gorgeous like this I want him to eat me whole break me open chew on my face open my skin_

"I think I'm up for some dick," Shane said, keeping his tone deadly serious. The intensity of the violence beating through Ryan like a heartbeat was... well, it would have been off-putting, if it wasn't Ryan. Shane wasn't sure if that meant that he was willing to put up with things that grossed him out for Ryan, or if he just found Ryan relatively nonthreatening. 

Either/or, really. 

"What, just _some_ dick? Not my dick, specifically?" Ryan teased, but then he scooted back, shoving his boxers down. His cock bounced forward to hit his belly, and Shane was reminded of the dream again. 

"I'd like that dick, specifically. Your dick. You know what I mean." Shane made a frustrated noise, wriggling on the bed and spreading his legs wider. He was still getting used to the heady luxury of being able to just exist as a body with Ryan, and he moaned when Ryan's hands found his ass, holding him open. Ryan's lust washed over him. 

_so ready for me I want I want I want I want I want_

"I like hearing you say that," said Ryan, his voice rough. One of Ryan's hands left Shane's ass, and there was a slick sound. Shane shuddered - Ryan was preparing his cock, and the echoes of the sensation sang along Shane's nerves. 

"What, that I want your cock?" Shane licked his lips as another pulse of lust burrowed down into his gut like a root breaking through a rock. "I want your cock, Ryan. I think it's been established."

"I like to make sure," Ryan said, and he was pressing closer, the head of his cock against the rim of Shane's hole. The new point of contact made Shane's toes curl as the twinned sensations of penetrating and being penetrated slammed down on him.

"Thorough," Shane choked out, squeezing his eyes shut, his mouth falling open. Ryan's cock pushed into him, thick and hot. It was solid, and it filled him. Ryan's mind crashed against his, and he... took it. He opened his body and his mind, and he just laid there and took it. 

"You, uh... okay in there?" Ryan, fully seated inside of Shane, paused. His cock flexed inside of Shane's ass, and he began to shake. Uncertainty mixed with the lust teeming around him.

Shane grabbed Ryan by the back of the neck, pulling Ryan closer to him. He had his fingers on Ryan's temples, and they were forehead to forehead with Shane bent to an uncomfortable degree and Ryan panting, trying not to move. Shane... did his best to project his mind. He'd never been good at it, but he was foggy with sleep and nearly delirious with arousal, so why not, right?

... Shane was aware that this was probably a stupid thing to do so early in a relationship, let alone early in a relationship with a telephasiac, but well. Nobody is at their best when woken up from someone else's dream, and he was beginning to suspect that he was more than fond of Ryan, but there was still a time and a place.

So Shane opened his mind and pressed it against Ryan's, and Ryan's mind let him in until they were mingled. It was an odd sensation - he was _aware_ of Ryan's body, aware of the way Ryan's calf was starting to cramp up, the way the muscles of Ryan's stomach were taut, sweat dripping down Ryan's back. 

Ryan, in turn, froze. His thoughts were racing. 

_he's in me I'm in him we're in each other how does this work holy fuck this is weird will I get taller?_

That startled a laugh out of Shane, and he was aware of both the sensation of his ass squeezing around Ryan's cock and of Ryan’s cock being squeezed by his own muscles. 

“What’s so funny?” Ryan panted, and his mind was still a mess of question marks and arousal. 

“You’re… you’re not gonna get taller,” Shane said. “Do you want me to cut your legs off, to make you shorter?” As far as gory attempts at dirty talk went… it could have been better. Much better. But Shane didn't kink on gore the way that Ryan did. 

Ryan's amusement rolled over Shane, and Ryan’s breath was ticklish and hot against his face as Ryan snickered. “That was a good try,” he said earnestly, thrusting his hips forward. His cock passed along Shane’s prostate. “You’re in my head. How are you getting it wrong?” 

“It takes practice,” Shane said, and then he made a weird noise because Ryan’s hand wrapped around his cock, stroking him. So much feedback, all at once. Shane had been known to pass out from overstimulation while having sex in the past. Hopefully this wouldn’t be one of those times. 

“Well… you need more of it,” said Ryan, and he thrust his hips forward again, a sweet little shimmy that made Shane claw at the bed covers, his other hand in his own hair. Then he moved it to Ryan’s hair, tangling it in his fingers while he whispered in Ryan’s ear.

“Would you rather I slit you open and chew on your guts?”

Ryan moaned against Shane’s lips, then sobbed. He began to thrust harder, and his hand on Shane’s cock sped up. 

_I’m going to be hearing that on a loop oh god oh god please don’t stop oh fuck_

Shane tried to project the imagery from the dream - the glowering plague doctor, the dank basement, the sight of the blood on the scalpel. He moaned when Ryan’s arousal seemed to _heave_ , like a living thing, and then Ryan fucked him in earnest. It was the kind of fucking that Shane associated with being drunk, or stupidly in love. The kind of deep, fast thrusts that shook the bed.

Ryan’s thoughts didn’t have words anymore - there were images here and there, fragments from the dream or bits from other things. Shane’s face showed up occasionally, but mostly it was a pair of long, pale hands, or long legs. There was violence involved, and tenderness, and unexpected combinations of the two that left Shane endeared and confused.

And horny. Very horny. All of him was horny, even bits of him that he didn’t know could _be_ horny. The marrow in his bones seemed to be singing. He clung to Ryan, and he was sending… what was he sending? Feelings? Images? It was a stream, filling the both of them up, magnified like a mirror reflecting itself endlessly. 

Shane was engulfed by Ryan’s pleasure, which was reflected in Shane which was reflected in Ryan, over and over and over. It crawled up Shane’s back, spreading over his shoulder blades, burrowing into his gut. Time was happening and it kept happening, but it was happening elsewhere. Here and now, the two of them were just curled together in this bubble of warmth and pleasure. 

Ryan came first; he had been on the edge of it since he’d woken up, and he clutched at Shane’s shoulders. His hips worked faster until he was fully sheathed inside of Shane, his cock spitting come. His thoughts were just static, pleasurable static, and it was a relief after the constant pressure of words. The heat of it was almost scalding, and the pleasure of it raced down Shane’s nerves like fire down a bundle of matches.

Shane sobbed, his mouth wide open, his heels digging into Ryan’s back. He dig his nails in too, as he humped forward, his cock rubbing between the two of them until the pressure building _broke_ , leaving him thrashing. With their minds entangled Ryan felt it too, and Ryan pressed his forehead into Shane’s shoulder and just… stayed there as Shane’s pleasure crested like a wave.

“Fuck,” said Ryan, his voice cracking. His head was filling with thoughts again, slowly. 

_that was good sleep I want to sleep now god how is he so good_

Shane kissed the back of Ryan’s hand, and he yawned cavernously. “I dunno about you, Ry, but I’m an old man who needs to get my beauty rest.”

“You’re not resting enough, if that’s the case,” said Ryan, affection dripping off of every syllable. 

Shane made a vague hand gesture, and he sighed with relief and regret when Ryan pulled away. He lay splayed on his giant bed, sticky with lube and come, already on the edge of drifting back to sleep even in the wet spot. He was gross, but he luxuriated in it. There was something satisfying in remembering that he was a human being in a human body. 

He wasn’t just a mind floating in a void. 

“You okay, big guy?” Ryan’s voice was coming from a long way off. 

Shane made a vague affirmative noise, and then he was asleep. He was aware, tangentially, of Ryan turning the light on in the bathroom, of him doing something hygiene-related. And then Ryan came back into the bedroom and wiped Shane down with so much tenderness that it made Shane want to cry. There were so many feelings coming off of Ryan that they were was sliding into Shane’s dreams. 

His last thought, before he was completely down for the count, was to wonder how they’d managed to touch during sleep over the long stretch of bed in the first place. But that was morning Shane's problem.

**Author's Note:**

> Like this fic?
> 
> Want me to write you something like it, or something completely different?
> 
> Come talk to me on my twitter, theseusinthemaz! (no e)


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